


imaginary morning glory

by valleyofthewind



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Underage Drinking, gyu's a nerd too, hao needs people to join his d&d club or it'll be shut down, rated T for swearing and sex jokes and all of that, the main charas are teenage boys cmon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleyofthewind/pseuds/valleyofthewind
Summary: all minghao wanted was his dungeons and dragons club to get 3 more members





	imaginary morning glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleladysugar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleladysugar/gifts).



> so you know i was thinking: i should write a jock/nerd gyuhao AU. and then i was like: so who's the nerd and who's the jock. and then it hit me. they're BOTH the nerds. like you can't walk up to a nerd/nerd couple and ask who the jock is. it doesn't work like that
> 
> dedicated to [my angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleladysugar/) <3

 

Only three days into the autumn term and Minghao already wants to die.

It must be a new record.

“You can't just _get rid of_ my club,” Minghao's saying to the vice principal, Mrs. Chu, or whatever. “Aren't you allowed to create clubs for whatever you want? Isn't that like–” waving his arms in exasperation and huffing in disbelief– “the whole point in having clubs?”

“Insufficient members equals no club,” she says, voice a dull drone as if she can't wait to end the conversation and get the hell out of there. “Sorry, kid. Says you only have _three_ members as of this school year – rules say that your club needs at least six for the school to keep funding it.”

Minghao huffs again. “You don't even fund anything. We bring everything ourselves. We just need to borrow the classroom.” He glares at nothing in particular. “And it's hardly a classroom. It's _209 b._ , for Christ's sake, just one of those small study rooms that no one uses.” It's risky – talking back to her like this – and she looks mildly unimpressed at his behaviour.

“Six members or more,” Mrs. Chu says, inspecting her fingernails.

“Bullshit,” Minghao mutters under his breath. Then, louder again, “Which rules even are those?”

Mrs. Chu, taking her sweet time, reaches into the desk drawers and brings out some sort of notebook slash Bible-size book, searching through it with a bored look and heaving a sigh every now and then. There's a long, painful silence. “Here you go, kid. Policies on starting and running a club within school area.” She pushes her glasses up. “Furthermore, it says here that your club has allegedly used our school's printer to print out paper several times. That costs money, you know.”

“ _What?_ ” Minghao says, almost incredulously. “All students are allowed to use the printers _for free_.”

“No such thing as a free lunch,” she says, and Minghao's eyes twitches as he realises how much he hates the sound of her voice. She sounds like that snail-secretary-thing from Monsters Inc., only much worse, and she also sounds way too uninterested for someone about to ruin _literally_ the only thing Minghao enjoys in life, which honestly unnerves him.

But it seems as though he needs to approach it from a different angle. He says, “So, six members? And if I manage to rack in three more members, the club can stay?”

Mrs. Chu slides her gaze up to give him another look. “If you can 'rack in' three more members by the day after tomorrow – Friday – since that's when the school decides on everything about all of the clubs and give out information to the members of them on the following Monday. Three members in two days. Reckon you can do it?”

“Consider it done,” Minghao says. Just because he's at the very brink of desperateness.

After he utters these words she looks at him, and he looks at her, and they have some sort of silent stare-off before she tears her eyes away and thanks him for coming in. (Translation: “ _Please shift it out of here.”_ )

They exchange a few more awkward words before he fumbles whilst standing up, leaving the room feeling slightly nauseated and more than stressed over the whole situation. Her last words to him before he left echo in his head, “Good luck on finding members for your _Dungeons and Dragons club_.” She said it in that extremely petty, elitist way like you'd imagine her to do.

He walks through the corridor feeling flustered and very annoyed and also trying to think, because, honestly, she's right about that, how the hell _is_ he going to find new members for his _Dungeons and Dragons club_?, it was hard enough trying to find Soonyoung and Wonwoo, but maybe they know people? Right, right, he realises, sighing deeply, that he should probably explain the whole situation to his actual _existing_ members.

_[To: feng, magfina]_

_Me: Meet me in 209b ASAP_

_magfina: but_

_magfina: lunch..._

_Me: TRES IMPORTANTE!!!_

As aforementioned, 209 b. isn't really the most grand place to have, so-called, 'club meetings'. Minghao hopes that if they do manage to rack in a few more members the school gives them something at least a little bit bigger. Not that he should count his chickens before the eggs hatch, or shout “Hi!” before jumping over the river, or whatever they say. But even the _hacker_ club (more commonly known as the 'programming techniques' club) got 110 – one of the big lab rooms with loads of space and huge windows. On the other hand, 209 b. has one table with a couple of chairs around and also one window, too small to even fit a head through. And the one lightbulb in there constantly flickers. And the whole room has this kind of distinct smell of beer, mixed with paint or oil or something (they're not even really sure). And every now and then they walk in on people using it for, well, _other purposes_ than a supposed study room. The joys of high school.

Still, Minghao guesses it's better than nothing. Better than the _nothing_ which they're about to get if Soonyoung and Wonwoo don't actually start _listening_ to what he's saying.

“ _Three_ more members?” Soonyoung splutters, staring at Minghao. “ _Three_?”

Minghao starts, “I mean, we could put up posters or someth–”

“Posters?” Soonyoung repeats. “ _Six members?_ Who's gonna DM for _six_ people?”

“ _I_ could DM for six people. Come on, it's either that or nothi–”

“ _Posters_? They'd just rip the goddamn posters down, Hao, people don't care about some nerd club needing more members.”

 _Nerd club_. He would be offended by that, but it was Soonyoung who said it. And the apple falls from the tree after all.

“Okay, so, maybe not posters.”

Chair creaking loudly, Wonwoo leans back and rubs his temples as if he's actually concentrating hard.

“Wonwoo?” Minghao says. “Any ideas?”

“'Posters', he says, honestly,” Soonyoung mumbles.

“We could like, fake being another club and get people to join the fake club, thus getting us more members, but they don't actually know about it,” Wonwoo says, pretty flippantly.

“You what?” Soonyoung says.

“I saw this film once. It sucked. But anyway, it was called _Geography Club_ or some shit,” Wonwoo says. “And the members said that the club was a geography club, hence the title, but it was actually an LGBT club. You get me? We can trick people into joining our group.”

“That's not really tricking anyone though, is it?” Minghao says and frowns at this. “It was more of an undercover club.”

“What if someone actually wanted to join a geography club but then just got a bunch of insecure gays instead,” Soonyoung says.

“Exactly,” Minghao says.

“I don't _know_ ,” Wonwoo says, rolling his eyes. “It was awful, by the way, don't watch it.”

“Did _Geography Club_ murder your fucking family, or what's the deal?” Soonyoung says.

“I just hate bad films.”

“We realised.”

“ _Hello?_ ” Minghao says, and they both, surprisingly, snap their attention back to him. “Thanks, Wonwoo, but I'm not sure we can _trick_ people into joining, or go undercover, or whatever. That Mrs. Chu is already suspicious as it is.” He looks between the two of them. “Don't you know people who could like, sacrifice themselves for us?”

“I don't know,” Wonwoo says, biting his lip.

“I could ask a few people who owe me favours,” Soonyoung says. “But, like I said, I genuinely don't think there's crowds of people who'll pounce at the idea of joining a D&D club.”

Minghao waves his hand at this. “There doesn't need to be _crowds_ – just three people, remember?”

Wonwoo says, “Isn't there a saying that goes, _'Three's a crowd'_?”

Soonyoung says, “Shit, he has a point.”

 

 

 

 _[New Message from:_ Jeon Wonwoo _]_

_Hey I know this is really out of the blue but can you please sign up for me and my friends dungeons and dragons club or ask someone else to do it. you don't even have to play w us you can just sign up and never go but we need 3 more members by FRIDAY or they'll cancel the club it would really help_

Mingyu stares at his phone and furrows his eyebrows. When was the last time he talked to Jeon Wonwoo? Freshman year? 

“What's up?” Seokmin says, pushing his shoulder and looking at Mingyu's perplexed expression with a smile on his face.

“I don't know,” Mingyu says, frown deepening as he reads through the text message for about the 3rd time. They're sitting together in the school cafeteria, Mingyu reading _No Longer Human_ by Osamu Dazai and trying to eat his chicken katsu curry at the same time as he does so; Seokmin slurping the cafeteria's beef noodles like there's no tomorrow. “Something really bizarre. Jeon Wonwoo just asked me to join his Dungeons and Dragons club?” It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement.

Seokmin doesn't even seem phased by that completely obscure sentence. “Well, are you gonna do it?”

Mingyu stares at him. “Join the Dungeons and Dragons club?”

Seokmin taps his chopsticks against his bowl and gives Mingyu this _look._ “No, travel to the moon in a glass elevator and build a hotel there.  _Yes,_ join the club.”

“Why would I?” Mingyu questions, ignoring Seokmin's blatant sarcasm and his attention back to his phone and reading through the text again. “I mean, we haven't talked in ages.” He scratches his head. “He says the club needs more members or it'll be cancelled.”

“Isn't Wonwoo a senior?” Seokmin says.

“Yes, and?”

“What'd you mean, _'and'_? It's his last year here. If he wants to keep the Dungeons and Dragons club, you should help him keep it.” Seokmin tuts at him. “Don't be heartless, Gyu.”

“I'm not _heartless_ ,” Mingyu says, huffing, now opening up his wallet and fishing out a random receipt to use as an impromptu bookmark, putting his book down carefully on the table and trying to avoid getting various leftovers of food on it. “If you want to 'help' so bad, join the club yourself. I'm already in the literature and poetry club. You know that.”

“Give it a _chance_ ,” Seokmin says.

“I said that _you_ can give it a chance,” Mingyu says, flinching as he sees the left corner of the book dip into some old juice stain.

“Fine, let's join it together,” Seokmin says.

“You're joking,” Mingyu says, but he looks up from the table and sees in Seokmin's eyes that he's genuinely serious about joining this club and when Seokmin is genuinely serious about something there is no way to back down. “Oh my God, you're not joking.”

Mingyu waits for Seokmin to finish slurping some more noodles before he speaks up again, “D&D is fun.”

“May I remind you that we're juniors now,” Mingyu says. “Aren't we meant to like, go out partying and shit?”

“Mingyu, may I remind _you_ that you're in the _literature and poetry club_ ,” Seokmin says, raised eyebrows and deadpan tone. “Good luck on the partying front!”

Mingyu pretends to be offended, clutching his hand to his heart, and says, “What about you, then, huh?  _Jazz band?_ ”

“Jazz is all that's good in the world.” Mingyu scoffs at that, but Seokmin ignores him and continues, mouth full of food, “Tell Jeon Wonwoo that we're joining the club.” (Though Mingyu has to decipher this from, “ _Tll JnoWnnnwoo th ha werr jnining thclu b.”_ ) He points his finger accusingly at Mingyu. “Or _I_ will.” (“ _RIwiw.”_ )

“I hate you,” Mingyu says, frowning again as he silently goes over the multiple flaws in Seokmin's plans. “Like, I don't even know the other people in the club.”

“Kwon Soonyoung, I think?” Seokmin says, more intelligibly since he's successfully swallowed his mouthful. “He's cute.”

Mingyu shrugs. “Don't know him.”

“Cute boys and role-play,” Seokmin says, laughing. “What could go wrong? Send him a text, Gyu.”

“I've never even _played_ it before.”

“What's up with all the excuses?” Seokmin narrows his eyes. “Is it awkward to be with your _ex_? Oh, come _on_ , you were together for like a week when you were 14.”

“ _It's not th–_ ”

“Oh, it _so_ is–”

“No, piss o–”

“Prove it!”

“ _Piss off_.”

“Okay, don't send the text, then. _Fine._ ”

Mingyu can't help but grin at this. “Reverse psychology? Really?”

Seokmin laughs again. “It'll be fun.”

Mingyu chews on his lip for a few seconds and debates on whether or not it really _is_ a genius idea to join a club he has zero interest or knowledge in. “Yeah, okay. Let's do it, what the fuck. He did also say we don't even have to go to all the meetings.” He looks over to Seokmin, now smiling triumphantly. Stubborn as he is, he'd continue arguing until Mingyu gave in, anyway. “I know you're not _this_ benevolent. You're just doing this 'cause you fancy that Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Maybe,” Seokmin says.

“ _Wow_ ,” Mingyu says. “How's life being _that_ predictable?”

Seokmin ignores Mingyu's disapproving glare and repeats himself, “What could go wrong?”

Turns out that a lot of things can go wrong when one decides to, on a whim, join a club which he has exactly zero interest or knowledge in.

On the follow Tuesday they have their first club meeting (in what _has_ to be the grottiest room in school, too, _209 b._ ) and it's honestly a _disaster_. Call him dramatic. Seokmin has at least played Dungeons and Dragons few times before, in middle school or something. The other new member apart from them, some Lee Chan, a sophomore, has also played a few times and wanted to join some more after-school activities. Soonyoung, Wonwoo and the DM – _'Dungeon Master', really_ – who leads the whole game, some other junior, Minghao, all know the rules and spells and modifiers and everything else _by heart_. In their sleep. Backwards and forwards.

So basically Mingyu is the village idiot.

And if there's anything he absolutely _despises_ being, it's having to be the stupid and clueless one.

It's like this Minghao has to tutor him through everything. “So now you have your race chosen, half-elf did you say?” Minghao's saying now, looking over to Mingyu's character sheet and where he has the guidebook propped up in front of him. “Okay, time to choose your class.” He brushes past Mingyu, leans over his shoulder flips through the pages. “Here's a list of different classes and everything about them. Class is like, what your character does. You can guess most of them depending on their names; barbarian, fighter, sorcerer. A cleric is a kind of–”

The information enters Mingyu's right ear, passes through his brain without absorbing anything and then exits out of the left ear straight away.

Don't get him wrong. Usually – perhaps one could say _in other circumstances –_ he'd love being in a minuscule room with five other guys for two hours straight. Even 209 b. But these five guys are, as previously mentioned: a sarcastic 16-year-old, his childhood crush slash ex boyfriend he hasn't had a proper conversation with in years, his best friend, the guy his best friend has a crush on and an annoyingly, heart-wrenchingly cute boy who's acting as a _teacher_ to him.

Because this Minghao, the sort of Alpha Male of the whole game, is indeed _incredibly cute_. And maybe that's why it's even harder to concentrate on the constant information oozing from his mouth. As he points at the guidebook and explains to Mingyu the pros and cons of each class and gives him advice on which one to choose, Mingyu realises that his gaze is definitely caught on Minghao's face – the shape of his jaw; his neck; his soft yet alert eyes, like fucking Bambi's or something; the flickering sparkle in his eyes as he talks passionately about everything to do with D &D and patiently gives explanations to Mingyu and the others who have questions; his round glasses which keep threatening to slip down dangerously far down the bridge of his nose meaning that he has to readjust them every few minutes.

“Mingyu?” He waves a hand in front of Minghao's face, smiling gently. “You home?” _You home? That's so fucking_ _cute,_ Mingyu thinks, biting the inside of his cheek and shrugging awkwardly.

“Oh, Mingyu zones off like that,” Seokmin says, “ignore him.”

Mingyu sends a quick, half-assed glare over to Seokmin's general direction. “Sorry,” he says, diverting his gaze back to Minghao and concentrating on not letting his mind wander again. “You were saying?”

Minghao laughs, and his eyes sparkle warmly again. _God._ “I was saying a lot of things.” Mingyu could just about slap himself. It feels as though every second passing is another one closer to _impending doom_. Like when you have one of those days where it feels like the entire world will go up in flames beneath your feet if you take a single step outside of your bedroom. “But d'you think you know which class you want to be now?”

 _Okay, okay, class?_ Mingyu thinks, staring at the guidebook in front of him again. As he skim-reads the page, he sees something along the lines of being able to turn into animals and blurts out, “Druid.”

“Druid?” Minghao repeats, looking directly at him, making Mingyu force down a gulp. “Yeah, that sounds good, actually. Half-elf druid.”

Perking up at this, Mingyu echoes, “Sounds good?”

From the other side of the table, Seokmin snorts at him. (Later on, he tells Mingyu something like, “ _You looked like a fuckin' overeager puppy.”_ )

Minghao grins and taps on the box on the character sheet with Class above. “Just write druid there. Oh, and since you're a druid, you get a few extra things like, for example, more _wisdom_. Wait a second, you can go to page 46 and check th–”

And Mingyu starts zoning out again without realising. Then snaps back to life and tries to start listening intently and taking notes to try and understand.

And it goes on like this for the next two hours. On-and-off. Which makes 1. the whole process _immensely_ more complicated and difficult, meaning that they only have time to make their characters and not even start playing (thanks to Mingyu alone), 2. everyone in the room feel the urge to strangle Mingyu to death at least once (thanks to him, obviously), 3. Mingyu hate himself even more (thanks to him again – multitasking at its finest), 4. Minghao laugh a lot (thanks to him, being stupid) which is one of the only positive aspects of the whole experience – even if it was all an act, maybe even forced, he's still grateful for it, and 5. Mingyu really appreciate how nice going outside and breathing genuine fresh air is.

Since it's only August, the sun is still beating down on them when they all walk outside and start parting ways after the first, pretty disastrous meeting.

Minghao is talking to him now as they discovered that they're both walking to the tube stop or at least in that direction, and because they're only making normal, conversational smalltalk he finds himself being able to speak with his usual loquacity. And Mingyu guesses that, to Minghao, he must look like an unpleasant and unappreciative and idiotic asshole. But he _did_ actually start understanding more of the game, and he should probably mention that to Minghao and not just shrug like he always does or trip over his own feet or say something unsuitable for the situation or _whatever_.

“So what'd you think of D&D so far?” Minghao asks then, reading Mingyu's mind, stretching his arms over his head and he looks over to Mingyu and Mingyu looks at him and he has to summon all his might and strength to not duck his head down and blush like some 14-year-old.

“I mean, it's pretty hard to understand and all,” Mingyu says, because why not be honest? “Loads of numbers, maths and all. A lot more than I expected. Maths isn't really my, um, strong side. But I think I'm starting to get it now.” He pauses and tries for a smile. It probably looks all weird on his face. “I mean, you're a good teacher.”

Minghao kind of smirks at this. “I guess I am.”

They listlessly chat some more (“ _If maths isn't your strong side, what is?” “I don't know, modern languages. Religion. The ones that are literally completely random and make no sense but somehow make more sense to me than things that should make sense. Does this even make sense?”_ ) before Mingyu starts off to the left and Minghao continues down the main road, and Minghao, with the late-afternoon sun on his face making his skin glow a little, tells Mingyu that's he's thankful he joined the club and that he can give him some PDF file links so he can read up some more before the next meeting if he wants, and at that Mingyu laughs and thanks him, too, and they walk separate ways after excessively waving at each other, jokingly, (“ _You know. They like, always do this in anime”_ ), and Mingyu feels the wind blowing from behind him as he walks down the street.

 

 

  

_May the nights always be aglow_

_with the bliss of the day_

_with unharmed hands and feet_

_and kissed cheeks._

_– Sanober Khan_

 

 

Kim Mingyu doesn't come into his life like a gentle, summer breeze; a golden ray of sunshine on a serene August afternoon. He comes hurtling in like a hurricane. Erupts into Minghao's life like a volcano.

_Like a satellite?_

He has to get better at similes.

Because all of a sudden Mingyu is greeting him everyday by his locker, meeting up with him in between classes to ask questions about D&D (questions which Minghao happily answer – he enjoys playing teacher), sitting with him, Wonwoo and Soonyoung at lunch, along with Lee Seokmin who Minghao knows Soonyoung can't wait to bite his teeth into, metaphorically _and_ literally, and walking to the tube station with him after school even though Minghao knows it's much quicker for him to turn off the main road a few blocks before.

He spends time developing his character, a half-elf druid named Thielemans, at the club meetings and learning and he seems to be having fun playing even though he's had pretty bad luck so far (he's rolled more natural ones than Minghao has in his entire life, plus he would've probably dead a long time ago if Seokmin hadn't begrudgingly given up multiple turns to do medicine checks on him, _“He's a druid. Minghao, can't he like, use cure wounds on himself?”_ ). He does ask a lot of questions, most of which are replied to by a chorus of, “You choose,” and “That's the point,” and “Do what your character would do”. But he _is_ a good player for being a newbie. Minghao has to give him that. Since his Korean and general linguistics are so excellent, he really describes what he's doing in combat intricately, which always makes the game more fun, and also DMing more fun as he describes situations depending on the dice, too. And even though he's not as used to roleplaying as the rest of them, he does his best to try and keep up and be in character.

Minghao thinks it's sort of charming. He's gotten used to see Mingyu's perplexed look (knitted eyebrows, _cute_ ) when Soonyoung says something he doesn't understand. Or his shocked one when Wonwoo says something rude to one of them and he has to take a few moments to process that they're just roleplaying.

There's really nothing slow about how their friendship develops.

One second they're talking about the weather or homework or something. The next, their darkest fears and insecurities.

And it's so _weird_ to him because the thing is that Minghao is used to slow. He can easily make smalltalk and acquaintances but he's usually quite a shy person – only really opening up and being himself to people he's known a long time. It took him like, two years to actually become best friends with Soonyoung and Wonwoo.

And suddenly he finds himself on Facetime with Mingyu until he feels his eyes drooping. Suddenly he finds himself at Mingyu's house; the two of them sitting in his family's living room talking about their favourite films and songs and discussing capitalism and euthanasia and everything there is to discuss and staying there until Mingyu's family essentially kicks him out or his father calls him and tells him that it's time to return home and _that family's probably tired of having to always make dinner for you too_. He finds himself texting Mingyu when he needs help with his RE homework and Mingyu texting _him_ when he needs help with his maths or physics homework. He finds himself spending more time at the library, sometimes just waiting on the bench outside until Mingyu finally comes out with the book he wanted to find with a bright smile on his face and face visibly lighting up even more when he spots Minghao calling and waving him over.

After only a little less than two months, mid-October, Thielemans is on level 5 and Minghao has grown used to Mingyu coming over to his house to drink ice tea or hot chocolate with him, complain about a teacher or rant about a shitty ending to a series he follows or just sit in silence and read as Minghao watches a documentary about life on Mars.

_Two months._

Two months and he has already _basically_ memorised the pattern of Mingyu's breathing and can hear the way his footsteps sounds when he's trying to fall asleep, and it stresses him out because you shouldn't trust someone so much after two months, but at the same time he loves the way he can randomly walk into Mingyu's house on a Sunday and his sister just says “ _Hi, Minghao,_ ” without even looking up; he loves how Soonyoung and Wonwoo have gotten used to both Mingyu and Seokmin and even _Chan_ tagging along when they do things together.

It actually happens to be one of Soonyoung's favourite conversation topics recently.

_magfina: hey wonwoo_

_magfina: wanna meet up today i think hao's off banging his boyfriend anywy_

_feng: Sure_

_feng: McDonalds by Main?_

_magfina: sounds good i'll be there in 20_

_feng: I need to have a shower first make it 30 instead_

_magfina: fine_

_Me: What is this!!!!!!!!! I'm coming along_

_magfina: if mingyu's joining us tell him to invite seokmin too_

_Me: Mingyu's at his grandma's house_

_Me: You can just invite him??_

_magfina: no??_

_Me: k.............._

_magfina: nvm_

_Me: Nevermind what_

_magfina: let's go just the three of us <3 _

_feng: WEAK._

_magfina: >:( _

“So what's _really_ up with you and Mingyu,” says Soonyoung, stealing a chip from him and earning a half-assed glare from Minghao. This McDonalds is kind of their second home. It's where they always go to eat together. Minghao has tried to force them to get Chinese, or even Vietnamese or pizza with him, but it's like tradition that they eat at McDonalds and they sit at the same, greasy corner by the sockets so they can charge their phones and Soonyoung steals their chips even though he has his own.

“I like him,” says Minghao vaguely.

This makes Soonyoung raise his eyebrows. “Like as in a friend, or?”

“Obviously more,” Wonwoo says.

“I just said I _like_ him,” Minghao says, defending himself, hand-over-heart. “We've gotten really close in two months, ish. It's weird.”

“'Cause you–” Wonwoo, taking a huge bite out of his chicken burger– “have a fat crush on him.”

Minghao shrugs – something he assumes he has picked up from Mingyu since he does it just about every second. It's like, he can't even disagree really. Mingyu _is_ attractive. He's a textbook attractive male. Broad shoulders, relatively good fashion sense and styled hair, sharp jawline. But he's also clumsy and intelligent and likes reading his favourite poems to Minghao and resting his head on Minghao's shoulder even though he's taller and sometimes, when they sometimes take the tube back to Minghao's house, he closes his eyes and falls asleep on his shoulder. Hair tickling against Minghao's neck. Enthusiastic voice as he “gives Minghao the verdict” on a book he just finished. Leaning up to readjust Minghao's glasses when they slip down his nose and smiling at him and arguing that peach ice tea is superior to lemon ice tea and _c'mon, get a grip, obviously, just buy lemonade if you want a lemon-flavoured drink._

Soonyoung leans over to steal a handful of chips from Wonwoo, too, but Wonwoo doesn't even seem to care. They've gotten used to it. “Doesn't that break some rule from _The Bro Code_? Like, you can't date your best mate's ex.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “We were 14.” He see-saws his hand in Minghao's general direction. “You can have him.”

Minghao snorts. “Well, then, _thanks_.”

What he's _not_  planning on telling them is that two weeks ago, Minghao had accidentally walked into Mingyu changing – thankfully he had his jeans on, otherwise Minghao would've possibly died or simply offed himself on the spot – and him shirtless has been jerking-off material since. 

“Did you just say you fucking jack off to the thought of Mingyu shirtless,” Soonyoung says. Minghao snaps his head up and looks at their faces to register Soonyoung with an amused look on his face and Wonwoo with his mouth practically dropping to the ground.

“I said that out loud?” Minghao feels his face heat up and stuffs his mouth with another chicken nugget. But then again, he's only talking to Soonyoung and Wonwoo. “What?” They're both just sat there and staring at him. “Is masturbating to the thought of your friend against _The Bro Code_ or some shit.”

“You used to be so innocent and cute,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh, you've surpassed _The Bro Code_ by now,” Soonyoung says. “We're onto like, _The Homo Code_. Volume five.” Upon seeing Minghao's expression, “Seriously!”

“Whatever,” Minghao says. He feels sort of flustered now – wasn't Soonyoung the one who said he'd let Seokmin spit in his mouth, yesterday? a few days ago? 

“Don't _whatever_ us, young man,” Wonwoo says, now licking his fingers and fixing his gaze on Minghao again. “You are going to _explain_. Everything. From day one.”

“What's there to explain though,” Soonyoung says and cracks a grin.

“I didn't mean _just_ the jacking off thing,” Wonwoo says. “I mean the _whole_ Mingyu thing.”

“Masturbating is _healthy_ ,” Minghao says, and he really can't believe he just said that, honest to God, his face must be going crimson by this point and he's just killing himself slowly just like eating McDonalds more than once a week is supposedly meant to do. “Endorphins. Let out in your body. You know.”

Soonyoung and Wonwoo take one look at him and burst out laughing. And Minghao can't help but laugh too. And they start _really laughing_. And when they think they're about to stop, Soonyoung says, “ _Endorphins,_ ” again and they crack up again; Minghao wiping away tears and Wonwoo somehow snorting without making noise.

“Thanks, Dr. Xu,” Soonyoung says, letting out another throaty laugh.

“ _God,_ ” Minghao says, picking his napkin up and dabbing at his eyes. He knows that they will never live him down for this. Wonwoo is still taking the piss out of something awkward he said last year (which doesn't need to be repeated here). “I hate you both.”

“Hating isn't _healthy_ ,” Wonwoo says. There's the usual playful leer on his face.

Minghao groans and covers his face with his hands.

“We're not dropping this fucking conversation topic,” Soonyoung says, “ _tell us about Mingyu_.”

He wants the ground to open up and slurp him down, like the way Wonwoo slurps milkshakes. (He's _working_ on the similes, okay.) But Minghao opens his mouth and then suddenly the words are pouring out. He tells them about how it scares them how quickly their bond has formed, how he definitely thinks Mingyu's attractive and could possibly have a tiny, minor crush on him ( _“Tiny?”_ ), how Minghao thought he was stupid thanks to the first D&D meeting but he turned out to be really smart and can hold intellectual conversations and arguments about everything.

“Wow,” Soonyoung says, leaning back in the plastic chair and taking it in. “Sounds like you have it bad.”

“Yeah, but _already?_ ” Minghao says.

“So?” Soonyoung says. “Romeo and Juliet fell in love at first sight.”

“Then they killed themselves,” Minghao says.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Soonyoung says, rolling his eyes. “Killed themselves, schmilled schemselves.”

Wonwoo starts laughing at this, giggling a little at first and then throwing his head back, and Minghao joins in 'cause it was so dumb and they're all laughing loudly again and _how_ have they not been thrown out of McDonalds yet; they've been in there for two hours, they've already finished their food and they must be the noisiest table in there.

“Schmilled schemselves,” Wonwoo repeats, sending them into hysterics again.

“My stoma ch hu srts,” Minghao says in between breaths.

Soonyoung says, gulping for air, “S hit I think we s,hould get, out of here,” and they stumble away and throw away the empty boxes and used tissues and everything and place the trays back before leaving whilst purposefully not meeting each others gazes to try and calm down.

 

 

 

Since he's been busy with his grandmother all weekend, Mingyu hasn't been able to talk to Minghao properly for two whole days, so he sends him a text later on in the evening when he finally gets back to his own room and flops down on his own bed.

_Me: Missed me ;)?_

He sort of hates himself for that. But it earns him a reply straight away.

_Minghao: A little_

Mingyu stares at his phone screen. Okay, shit, he expected some sarcastic retort or no proper reply at all. But Xu Minghao just keeps fucking surprising him.

_Me: Well I'm back now:)_

_Me: facetime?_

_Minghao: We'll see each other at school tomorrow_

_Me: And?????? I missed you_

 

 

 

Minghao rereads the message several times, and it feels like he just rolled three natural 20s in a row.

He turns around in his bed and mutters to himself, trying to mask the obvious exuberance seeping into his veins, _how can he say these things, what the hell, what, ugh,gwhat'swrongwithhim._

 

 

 

_Minghao: Well_

_Minghao: that's your own personal problem_

Mingyu can't fight the smile off his face.

 

 

 

 _In an effort to get people to look  
into each other's eyes more,  
and also to appease the mutes,  
the government has decided  
to allot each person exactly one hundred  
and sixty-seven words, per day.  
   
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear  
without saying hello. In the restaurant  
I point at chicken noodle soup.  
I am adjusting well to the new way.  
   
Late at night, I call my long distance lover,  
proudly say _ I only used fifty nine today.  
I saved the rest for you.  
  
_When she doesn't respond,_  
_I know she's used up all her words,_  
_so I slowly whisper_ I love you  
_thirty two and a third times._  
_After that, we just sit on the line_  
_and listen to each other breathe._  
_– The Quiet World, Jeffrey McDaniel_  
  
 

 

One day, Minghao says, “Hey, Mingyu?” and looks over to Mingyu lying, legs stretched out, over the sofa and reading _The Secret History_ by Donna Tartt.

He puts his book down after a split second's hesitation. “Yeah?” It's almost as though he has to physically tear his gaze away from the pages, reluctantly propping a finger between them as a quick bookmark.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” Minghao says.

That simple question sends Mingyu into a splutter.

“Uh– _umffff,_ um, what,” he says, and Minghao watches his face, cheeks and neck, pricking with a light, red colour. “I mean, that was unexpected.”

So maybe it's one of Minghao's new favourite hobbies. Saying unexpected things to Mingyu and then studying his reaction closely.

Minghao sits up even straighter in the arm chair and does so. Studies his reaction closely. They're sat in Mingyu's house's living room, and despite the bright, late-October sun shining (more sporadically than persistently – grey clouds and rain take over pretty often), they haven't been outside all day. Minghao wouldn't even mind going out for a bit, maybe buy a hot drink and go for a walk in the park, but Mingyu had insisted that it was the perfect day to stay inside and read slash study slash watch _Good Will Hunting_ or another one of their shared favourite films together.

Minghao has come to realise, thanks to this being a very Mingyu kind of activity, that it's something he does quite like to do. Just stay indoors and listen to the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows or feel the heat from the sun beaming onto his skin as he watches Mingyu sit there, absorbed into whatever he's doing. Sometimes, if he's really into what he's reading, he'll only look up for a second or so – maybe to stretch his arms or neck or walk to the kitchen and get himself a glass of water – and suddenly remember Minghao is there, too, almost startled at this, and send him a soft smile without really saying anything.

“I mean,” Mingyu repeats. “Depends on what counts as a kiss.”

Minghao continues to stare at him. “What?”

Mingyu sits up, now, forcing himself out of the comfortable, lazy position with his body draped all over the sofa. He pulls his legs up and sits with them crossed. “Like, does a truth-or-dare-kiss really count as a proper kiss? I mean.”

“I don't know.” Minghao frowns. Maybe he's starting to regret this whole idea. “You decide.”

“I've had a few truth-or-dare-kisses,” Mingyu says, fidgeting a little. “And some more apart from that, I guess.”

“Okay,” Minghao says.

Then Mingyu meets his gaze, at last, and it's like his face in that moment should be emblazoned in the stars or be projected into every living organism on earth, or whatever the hell, as long as Minghao gets to see it again _for the rest of his life_. “Why'd you ask?”

In his head, Minghao props his head up against the palm of his hand and fake rolls his eyes. He says something like, “ _I don't know. Just wondering_ ,” and he definitely sounds tense and unnatural, and Mingyu cracks a grin at this and mocks him, “ _'Just wondering',_ ” and the conversation ends there. Easy as that. Life goes on.

But that's just the fictional scenario. The hypothesis. In reality, Minghao coughs out a, “I wanted to ask if you can kiss me.”

And now it's Mingyu's turn to stare at him. And Minghao's turn to start spluttering. “You know, I have to get practice somewhere, like, shit, who knows when I'll need to know how to like 'kiss'–” why did he just air-quote 'kiss', oh my God– “someone, what if I don't know what to do?” He starts tapping a rhythm on his knee. “I know it's out of the blue, but, you're my friend and–”

“I didn't know you're gay,” Mingyu says.

Minghao pauses his garrulous rambling. He breathes out. “Um, I don't really know. I guess.” 

I guess?  _I guess?_

“Oh,” Mingyu says.

There's a silence for a few really, _really_ long, painful seconds, and Minghao can't even look at Mingyu, but he can almost feel his eyes well with tears in embarrassment and the obvious rejection and, why did he do this, why, why, why, now Mingyu will hate him and the D&D club will die out forever and the _entire universe_ will collapse underneath the weight of his misery.

“Fine, okay, I'll d–”

“It's okay, I'm sorry I asked, that was stupid and I–”

Mingyu sends him a confused look. But he can't see this look since he is busy scrunching his face up and closing his eyes which he likes to do when he's trying to ignore problems. “Minghao, I said fine.”

“Fine?” Minghao says.

“I'll kiss you,” Mingyu says. He puts his book down on the sofa with no bookmark and stands up, smiling.

Un-scrunching his face, Minghao takes his hands away and opens his eyes slowly.

After a few heartbeats, Mingyu continues, whinging, “Minghao, _c'mon_ , or it'll actually get awkward,” which makes the cogs in Minghao's brain suddenly start churning and he shoots to his feet as if his ass was just set on fire.

“This was stupid,” Minghao says, and he can feel his cheeks burning already, and as he looks at Mingyu properly he can see him looking at Minghao, half-flustered and half-amused. 

“That's what you're gonna say before you kiss someone?” Mingyu says, _really_ smiling happily, a gentle but decidedly visible blush resting on his face again.

“I've never kissed a boy before,” Minghao says. _Why did he say that?_

Mingyu shakes this comment off with a shrug.

“I don't really know how to do this,” Minghao admits, and even though it was probably quite obvious it embarrasses him to say it out loud.

Mingyu doesn't seem to mind. “Okay, just place your hands wherever. You can just put them on my waist or something.” He reaches out and takes Minghao's hands, and a flare is lit in the deepest, darkest pits of Minghao's stomach. _Produce Flame. Cantrip. Opponent takes 1d8 fire damage if hit._ “Yeah.”

Now Minghao has his hands placed awkwardly on Mingyu's waist. There's a couple of centimetres gap between them. It doesn't feel sensual, or tender, or loving, or beautiful – it feels out-of-place and uncomfortable and stupid and he's seriously regretting the whole thing again, almost telling Mingyu to stop and go back to _The Secret History_ and forget Minghao ever said anything about kissing and possibly-being-gay.

“Earth to Minghao?” Mingyu says, grinning even more at Minghao's lost, probably distraught expression. _Shit_ , he must've been staring, Minghao realises, but the sudden panic over this threatening to overtake him disappears the very moment Mingyu places his own hands on Minghao's cheeks.

Minghao knows that it would ruin the non-existent mood to say something, but it's like he can't help himself. “So is it lame to have your first kiss at 17.”

“Better than 18, I guess,” Mingyu says, and leans in.

Perhaps Minghao has watched a few too many teen rom-coms for his own good, because he definitely thinks it will go a lot smoother than it, in actuality, does. The moment their lips meet, one of those random bodily shivers shoots through him, making him jerk forward a little, making Minghao's teeth clash against Mingyu's mouth, making him successfully want to crawl into a ball and just  _end it_ right there and then.

Mingyu starts giggling at this, still holding Minghao's face in his hands.

“Shut up,” Minghao says.

“Hey, that's more like it for a line before kissing someone,” Mingyu says, leaning in for the second time.

It does go better this time around – Minghao lets himself relax as Mingyu guides him through the whole thing. He almost finds himself reeling Mingyu in, or that could be Mingyu pushing himself forward, he's not really sure, and letting Mingyu tilt his head to deepen the kiss a little more. He tries to move his head, too, resulting in their noses bumping together slightly, but Mingyu continues without a care in the world. In fact, it's not as awful as he expected. It's even _nice_. He finds comfort in feeling Mingyu nails on his cheeks; feeling his calm, happy breath against his face as they pull away after what seems like decades.

“So,” Minghao says, withdrawing his hands from where they stayed religiously planted on Mingyu's waist pretty much the whole time. “Well, thanks.”

Mingyu laughs, blushing. “'Thanks'?”

Minghao laughs at the absurdity of it, too. “Yeah.”

“How was I for a first kiss?” Mingyu says, raking a hand through his hair, face flushed. “First male kiss?”

“Decent,” Minghao jokes. And then, “I'm just kidding, Mingyu,” when he sees his expression. “Aren't you meant to be nerdy, too? Like, where'd you learn how to kiss?”

Mingyu shrugs. That's kind of his thing. “Practice.” Then he sits down on the sofa again, and Minghao, still standing, watches him flip through his book, trying to find the page he was on. Minghao turns and sits down on the armchair and leans over to pick the remote control up. He turns the TV on. “This won't bother you, right?”

“Nope,” Mingyu says, his usual lopsided grin on his face. “I've learnt how to read in peace just about anywhere. Even in the school cafeteria.”

 

 

 

The months and weeks all seem to float into one. November, Minghao spends a lot of time with Wonwoo and Soonyoung alone, since they're seniors and graduating next term and all. Which is fine to Mingyu. Fair enough. They are his best friends, after all.

December. Apart from D&D club – _Thielemans is on level 7 by now! –_ they meet up even less. Maybe Mingyu has just gotten too used to being around Minghao essentially all the time. He knows that they both have loads of schoolwork to do, anyway, and yet he saviours the hours he gets to spend alone with Minghao; studying or role-playing or texting.

Then suddenly it's Christmas break.

Time goes _too fucking quick._

Minghao comes over to Mingyu's house after they finish school that day, and suddenly he starts crying over how much he's going to miss Soonyoung and Wonwoo. Mingyu holds him in his arms and then they watch _17 Again_ together, some shitty film with Zac Efron in that Mingyu would've guessed he likes, and it somehow cheers Minghao up.

Then, that weekend, two days before Christmas day, the two of them have dinner together. Some Chinese restaurant Minghao (he asked Mingyu if they could go there; _“I am_ sick _of McDonalds”_ ) likes. “It's not really somewhere you'd expect to be nice,” Minghao says, as they walk in, and Mingyu realises that he can't really disagree. Inflatable palm trees; fake, plastic orchids in vases; girl who looks about nine years old working the till; that distinct smell of cooking oil and air freshener; old rock music playing from the speakers.

But the food is, as Minghao also explained, _incredible_.

“You see,” he says now, digging into _Char Siu Bao_ , which Mingyu learns is the name of those fluffy, white meat buns. He's always called them _snowballs_ in his head. “This is the shit. _This_ is the type of place you have to go to get real, good Chinese food. Owned by a Chinese family. Menu in Chinese and not Korean or English–” (Mingyu had just had to trust Minghao when it came to the ordering front)– “you know? Not those fancy, _TripAdvisor_ restaurants where you have to reserve a table months in advance or something crazy, and four dumplings is like, a million won. This is just as good. If not better.” He stuffs his mouth with another bun. “ _Mmmnnnnjnj_.” He lets out this small, vocal groan, eyes falling back in pleasure, and Mingyu has to distract himself from blushing by taking a huge gulp of jasmine tea and almost choking to death, then shoving an unidentified dumpling into his mouth to mask his coughing and flushing.

Minghao doesn't even seem to notice. He just repeats himself, “This is the shit.”

The dumpling Mingyu ate tastes like a mixture of vegetables; carrot? lettuce? and definitely mushroom, along with the unmistakable flavour of coriander. And it _is_ amazing – his tastebuds are having a field day. “Yeah, it's delicious.”

“Delicious is right,” Minghao says, looking up from his plate for a second or so to crack a grin at Mingyu. Shit – he missed this. He missed this. He missed this.

They eat until their stomachs hurt (a lot of “ _Zai lai yi ge_ ,” which Mingyu learns means something like, “one more, bring again; another of this one”), not really talking much, just enjoying the food and each other's company in silence, but when they do start a conversation Mingyu kind of ruins the mood. It's almost as if he can't utter a single sentence around Minghao without ruining everything.

He's telling some story, and Mingyu is listening whilst lazily drinking his now-cold tea. “And, shit, there was no AC, you should've been there and felt the hotness of that place–”

“Heat,” Mingyu interjects, without realising that he does it, and wants to fucking defenestrate himself when he realises that he just did it. Literature club ruined him. Minghao frowns at him. And to make it worse, he thinks that maybe Minghao doesn't get what he meant, and mumbles some sort of idiotic explanation, “It's heat. Not hotness.”

“Okay,” Minghao says. Not really _'says'_. 'Grinds out' would be more accurate.

Mingyu knows him well enough to understand that the silence which follows isn't a 100 per cent comfortable one. And the look on Minghao's face as he picks up his glass of water and takes a sip, vaguely annoyed but mostly disappointed, makes Mingyu's heart plummet to the floor. _Fuck, you finally get to be with the_ man of your dreams _again and you piss him off?_ “I pissed you off,” he states out loud, stupidly. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” Minghao says, not meeting his gaze.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says again.

Minghao heaves a sigh – a deep one – as if he's used to having conversations like this and it's really starting to irritate him. “Listen, 'cause I'm only pulling this once. Okay? I've lived here since I was like, 12? 13? right. And you Koreans who grew up here and have lived here your whole lives, you don't really know what it's like. I mean, to have to come here and learn a completely different, unknown language, all while trying to fit in and deal with homework and school in general, which was _all in Korean_ , along with usual teenage-y stuff. Hormones, puberty, right?” He pauses and glances up at Mingyu. “I worked my ass off to learn Korean and keep up with school and settle in properly. I fucking _did_ –” first time Mingyu has ever heard him curse, after all these months, shit– “and I had to do it practically on my own, because schools don't really give a shit about students like me–” the bitterness is evident in his tone– “but, guess what? People still mocked me. They _mocked_ me. My accent, my wrong or weird choice of words or phrases, my stuttering. You know, that stuff. And then I just, stopped talking and even trying. And then they asked me why I was so _'shy'_. Like, take a guess.”

He sighs again, and Mingyu doesn't want to see his facial expression so he stares at Minghao's fingers resting, completely still, on his glass of water. “All of that, it was really difficult for me. I think I've gotten over it because I'm much, much better at Korean now. Fluent, right? That's what everyone tells me. _Practically fluent now!._ God, even the people who used to mock me. As if being good at Korean makes me smarter or something, you know?” Mingyu knows that Minghao's looking at him again, but he doesn't stop staring at the glass of water as he feels his cheeks burning red. “But then someone comes along and corrects me, or jokes about the way I pronounce a word–” another look at Mingyu– “not necessarily _you_ in particular, but anybody, really. And I feel like shit all over again.”

“Oh.” He's bursting to say sorry again, but if _he_ was Minghao he probably would've gotten even more annoyed if he just started profusely apologising again and made a big deal out of it. And although he tries to open his mouth and say something, _anything, you look like a goldfish with your gob wide open like that,_ there's nothing he can think of to say.

And Minghao continues, “It mostly just annoys me because people _know_ what I meant to say. Like, hotness. You get that I meant to say heat.”

“ _I'm on the hiiiighway to Hell,”_ the speakers churn out. Crackly, bad sound. Adverts between each song.

They're both quiet. Then Minghao says, quietly, “Sorry. I'm having a bad day.”

Why was _he_ apologising? Mingyu tilts his head up to stare at him. “Um.” Minghao is picking at the dirt under his fingernails. “I'm not really sure what to say.”

Minghao, almost trying to hide it but not succeeding, smiles softly at him from across the table. “Wanna get drunk?”

Yet another USFXMH ( _Unexpected Sentence From Xu Minghao_ ).

“Not really?” Mingyu says. “I don't know, maybe?”

Minghao laughs. “It just felt like the right time to say something like that.”

“What happened?” Mingyu says.

“Huh?”

“Why are you having a bad day?” Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “Did something happen? I mean, apart from me being an idiot.”

Minghao copies his shrug, ignoring the _idiot_ comment (Mingyu thinks that it’s because he can't really disagree). “Eh.”

“ _Do_ you want to get drunk?”

Minghao looks Mingyu dead in the eye and _there it is_. That small sparkle in his pupils, stretching even to the iris in that very moment. “We have bag-in-a-box red wine at home.”

“Is this the Minghao I know? Walking Dungeons and Dragons encyclopedia?”

“Is that a yes?”

“It's certainly not a no.”

 

 

 

Somehow, Mingyu being an accidental pretentious idiot (he _is_ in the literature club, after all) and Minghao snapping at him for it winds them up in his room, sharing bag-in-a-box red wine in actual red wine glasses because Mingyu is a cultural shit and knows the difference between white wine, red wine and champagne glasses. Minghao hasn't really ever drunk alcohol before and, apparently, neither has Mingyu, because after more than enough red wine ( _in proper red wine glasses!_ ) they're both drunk. Or Minghao doesn't actually _really_ know what being drunk is like. But he thinks Mingyu having to steady himself against the wall as he gets up and then playing this thrash-metal band's songs is the living definition of drunk.

“I used to kill this in _Guitar Hero 3_ ,” Mingyu says, giggling as he puts on another song which Minghao fuzzily makes out to be titled _Raining Blood_.

“Guitar Hero?” Minghao says and snorts as Mingyu starts air-guitaring and stumbling around the room. “Fuck off _nnfnf_.” He, without realising it, suddenly has his entire face pressed into the pillow on his bed. Groaning, he pulls back and says something like, “ _Fuckmnnmn nmhjj_ why did we do thi s nn.”

He'd not really even been having a bad day. He was just feeling kind of small and pointless and stupid and stressed about life because that's what being a 17-year-old is like, and Soonyoung kept going on about his college applications and then he wanted to meet up with Mingyu to feel better, and Mingyu had made him angry and then he was obviously shaken up and regretful over it and Minghao started to regret getting angry too which was why he suggested the whole Getting Drunk thing and his father's away on some business trip – _merry x-mas!_ – and it was all perfect in that moment and _whatever_.

In hindsight, not his best idea.

He guesses that life is just full of awful ideas and then you die.

Mingyu laughs at what he just said, he can't even remember what it was, so hard that he clutches to his stomach and falls back onto the bed next to Minghao, looking over at him funnily. “You're so drunk you're like swearing and you never even swear, what the _fuuuuuuuuck,_ ” he says and props his arms up. Rests his head in his palms.

Glassy-eyed, secretive grins; too-loud music; snow pelting against the window.

Mingyu continues with something like, “Shouldn't we be listening to Christmas music?” He picks his phone up and frowns at it as he drunkenly tries to work out what he's doing on it. “Wait, what did I say, Christmas music? You're seriously so unfestive, Hao, not a single deco,ra, tion.” Mingyu, who usually has intact grammar and excellent vocabulary, struggling to form coherent sentences. It's a sight to behold. “ _Unf_ , Mariah Carey.” He says it like Ca _ray._

“What, about, you?” Minghao moans, swatting at him and forcing the words out. With effort. The box of wine on his bedside table stares at him in this judging way. It tuts at him and shakes its head. _Shit_ , it doesn't even have a head, _what the hell_ , and even though Mingyu keeps going on about Jingle Bells or something, _Raining Blood_ is still playing in the background which makes him want to physically fist-fight Mingyu, or kiss him, or both at the same time. “ _Guitar Hero, 3?_ ”

“You don't have like a guilty pleasure artist,” Mingyu says – and his face is like 10 fucking centimetres away from Minghao's and it would be so easy to just grab his cheeks and kiss him the way he dumbly did back in October, but even more, even more, even more, more, more, more–

Minghao blurts out, “Avril Lavigne!”

“ _Avril Lavigne_?” This sends Mingyu into another fit of hysterics, and Minghao feels his soul ascending to heaven at the same time as he feels like he's going to throw up all over the carpet. Mingyu's practically wiping tears from his eyes. _Happy drunk? Is that what it's called?_ Another Slayer song comes on; loud and thrash-y, no melody – he seems to have a whole playlist prepared. “Avril?”

“She's good,” Minghao says, defensive, swatting up at Mingyu again but missing and just waving his hand into empty space. It's a few nanoseconds away from hitting the wall before Mingyu grabs it and holds it in front of his mouth like a microphone. Minghao can't stop looking at his lips, his lips his _lipshis lips his lips his lips ss ssn n nnvvvv._ His mind is all bleary like a disconnected, old-fashioned TV. Is that even a good simile? He can't think properly. He can't trust himself to not say something he doesn't want to say to Mingyu; his mouth doesn't seem to filter things before they exit in this _state_.

Sitting up on his knees on Minghao's bed, “Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend!”

Minghao starts stupidly laughing at this and then suddenly notices that if he even utters a single sound more he'll throw up all over Kim Mingyu, who he wants to make-out with ( _????!!!!!!!!!!!!??_ ) and also wants to punch in the face, sitting on his knees on Minghao's bed and using his fist as a microphone, so without thinking he quickly clamps his other hand over his mouth Mingyu sees it and stops dead to stare at him in horror. “Are youg, gnnna be _sick_?”

Minghao almost feels it rising from his stomach to his throat and nods, panic-stricken, and Mingyu is still holding his hand ( _efuckkkfkhckwhatthefuckwhathefuck k_ ) and he stands up, sways to the side a couple of times, and pulls him to his feet and Minghao's body easily glides down to the floor and he too has to take a few, dizzy moments to adjust.

He throws up twice in the toilet. When he think he's done, he moans in despair and coughs up more. Dregs of the dinner he had with Mingyu and alcohol and even breakfast and– God only knows what's in there. Mingyu flushes the toilet and doesn't stroke his hair like Minghao (gayly) wants him to do (very, very, very homosexually – he has neverEVER had a crush on a single girl in his life, nevereverevereverever he only wants to kiss _Mingyumingyumingyu_ ).

“I swear I saw som e o f the Chinese food in there,” Mingyu says.

“ _Ewwwuwwuw_ –” trying to brush his teeth but gagging on the minty taste mixed with the remnants of vomit in his mouth– “stop.”

“And the wine made it look like blood there too,” Mingyu says.

“ _Stooop pppppp p,_ ” Minghao says.

 

 

 

Mingyu wakes up on Christmas Eve to a killer headache, the sight of being completely tangled up with Minghao and the mattress half slipping of the bed and the duvet lying on the floor. His arms draped over Minghao's torso. Their legs weirdly intertwined. It's still snowing outside, Mingyu registers somewhere in his mind, but he's too busy staring at Minghao to even think about it.

Minghao, he's drooling and definitely muttering things in his sleep, his hair is sticking up on all ends, he has this unclear smell of sweat and toothpaste and like, sesame oil. Not exactly textbook _gorgeous_. But Mingyu thinks he's beautiful, anyway. Or the part of him that can actually think thinks so.

“ _Mmmmfff_ ,” says Minghao, turning and fidgeting around a few centimetres or so with what looks like a distressed expression on his face.

Mingyu ignores the pain he's feeling, quite literally, everywhere, the pounding in his head and heart and pulse beating rapidly even in his feet. Shuffles closer to Minghao and kind of looks at him – the whole dragged through a hedge backwards look, drool, bagged eyes, all – and just _takes him in_.

He stretches his neck a few times and falls asleep again.

 

 

 

Minghao is having a shitty Christmas. No big surprise there.

His father, back from his business trip too early for Minghao's liking, leaves for a lunch meeting (air-quote: _“Lunch meeting”_ ) after giving him a bar of Toblerone, a pair of socks and a quick, rigid kiss on the forehead as 'presents'. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are with their families, probably having the time of their lives and he doesn't want to dump his shit on them. And now he's found out that Mingyu's leaving to go to his grandmother's for the rest of the break. So he has no one to talk to apart from like, Chan, who he knows has a few family issues like Minghao, and they text each other for two hours which is nice, until Minghao finally decides to haul himself out of bed and goes to the living room to watch reruns of romance, comedy Christmas films, _Love Actually, The Holiday,_ the kind of garbage that he usually loves but now makes him feel all lonely and gay. And he goes into the kitchen to make himself pancakes or something so he can at least be lonely and gay with pancakes.

Just as he's on his third pancake (American style, thick ones – he stood there and separated the egg whites and yolks and all – why doesn't he have a boyfriend?, why isn't Mingyu eating his pancakes and kissing him down the neck?, why is his boyfriend-material-ness going to waste?) and it's gotten to his favourite scene in _Love Actually_ where the little boy chases the little girl through the airport and he's almost sniffling into the giant, syrup-y mess on the plate in front of him, the doorbell rings.

“Are you joking,” Minghao says, standing up and dragging his feet to the front door and grumbling to himself. Yeah, yeah, call him the Grinch.

“Hey,” Mingyu says as Minghao opens the door.

“Uh,” Minghao says, “Mingyu?”

 “Umm, yeah–” pausing, shuffling– “Hey.”

“Are you coming in?” Minghao rubs his eyes, perplexed.

Mingyu shakes his head.“I have to go in a minute.” There's snow stuck to his eyelashes which is weird since it's stopped snowing by now. “I just, you know, I was watching _Love Actually_ on TV and like, I–” taking a deep breath– “I _ran_ , sorry, um.” 

Minghao stares at him.

Huffing trying to breathe in and out slowly, “I thought of you. When I was watching it.” 

Minghao stares at him. 

“You like those type of films, right?”

He nods slowly.

Mingyu runs a hand through his damp hair. “So, like.”

“Are you sure you don't want to come in–”

“So the thing is I like you.”

Minghao nods slowly again.

Mingyu, now showing off his toothy smile, “Minghao, I _like_ you.” Stretching his arms above his head and Minghao looks at his frozen hands, and he's grinning. Ear-to-ear. “I had to tell you. Watching _Love Actually_ , and it just washed over me and I thought I _had_ to tell you. I made an excuse to my parents and ran to the tube and ran here, and shit– I don't run– my stomach is kind of cramping–”

“If you clench your fists it helps against cramps,” Minghao says.

“What?” Mingyu says, laughing.

“Yeah,” Minghao says.

“Minghao, I'm trying to be romantic here,” Mingyu says.

“Right,” Minghao says, and it's like the penny finally drops. He groans and leans his head against the front door. “God, you are.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Mingyu says.

Minghao tries to glare at Mingyu, but there's a small, visible smile spreading over his face. “You ran?”

“I _ran,_ ” Mingyu says.

“And your grandmother's house?”

“We're leaving at like, five.”

“That's in half an hour.”

“I _had_ to tell you.”

Minghao smiles. “I was perfectly fine watching _Love Actually_ alone. Crying into my pancakes.”

Mingyu's eyes light up. “You were watching it?”

“Of _course_ ,” Minghao says. “I didn't know _you_  like those type of films.”

“It's crazy because I don't,” Mingyu says, and he steps forward a little and Minghao almost cries again. “I didn't think I'd like Dungeons and Dragons either, and I sure as fuck don't like running.” He rubs his hands together nervously, and Minghao drinks up his expression and he swears he would to get an image of this moment tattooed to his fucking forehead.

“You're so stupid,” Minghao says, and now he's _really_ grinning. “So, so stupid. You have to _go_.”

“Is that a yes?” Mingyu asks, and Minghao pushes his shoulder back slightly with an utterly belated expression on his face and a warmth growing in his his body. He whinges, “ _Minghao_.”

Smirking, Minghao says, “Yes to what?”

A pout. “To me.”

“Yes to you?” This makes him laugh out loud. “Yeah, yeah, we'll see.”

And there's definitely something blossoming inside of him despite the fact that's he's now shivering thanks to the cold, and he probably has syrup dribbling down his chin, and he's wearing his pyjamas, and how slash why is Mingyu _still_ standing there when it takes 45 minutes to get to his house from Minghao's.

Blossoming. _Love, blue_. It reminds him of Mingyu's favourite poem – something about morning glories.

“Your parents are going to be mad,” Minghao says.

“Eh,” Mingyu says, shrugging because that's kind of his thing, and he looks like he's about to say something stupid like, _“What does it matter in 20 years time?”_ so Minghao steps forward and kisses him. Which does effectively shut him up. Especially since he's now the one leading Mingyu through it – tilting their heads and angling and sliding their lips together in a perfect fit sort of a way and cupping his cheeks gently.

 _Sunburst. 8_ _th_ _Level Spell. C_ _auses a globe of searing radiance to explode silently from a point you select._ _All creatures in the globe are blinded and take 6d6 points of damage._

And Mingyu stares at him when they break apart.

“Go,” Minghao says. He smiles and pats Mingyu's cheek teasingly. “Be with your family, or whatever.”

“Uh–” touching his lips and face flushing a marvellous red– “I'll, call, you. Later.” He looks at Minghao and opens his mouth and closes it and it looks like he's struggling to find words which fills Minghao with even more glee. Mingyu doesn't know what to _say, which words to use, he can't speak properly!_

Minghao makes this _pssshhh_ sound and see-saws his hand.

“I'll see you, uh,” Mingyu says. He repeats himself, “I'll call.”

“Okay,” Minghao says, grinning too much for his own good. “See you.” 

Shuffling on the spot again, “Yeah, see you,” and then smiling, walking away, turning around when he's only three metres away from their front door and excessively waving, like they do in anime!, which makes Minghao snort again, and then Mingyu starts sprinting down the street and he turns around to shout, “Merry Christmas,” as he's running and Minghao rolls his eyes, smiling, and shuts the door quickly because his teeth have now started excessively chattering and his pancakes are probably like, tepid by now.

 

 

 

_Whether or not the water was freezing. The body would break its sheathe. Without layer on layer of feather and air to insulate the loving belly. A cloudy film surrounding the point of entry. If blue were not blue how could love be love. But if the body were made of rings. A loose halo would emerge in the telluric light. If anyone were entrusted to verify this rare occurrence. As the petal starts to dwindle and curl unto itself. And only then. Love, blue. Hallucinogenic blue, love.  
– Imaginary Morning Glory, C.D. Wright_

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the biggest saps ever r... it's 4.30 am and i am crying into my lemon tea as we speak
> 
> if you want, come and have a chat w me over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/greeneryrains/) weewoo weeowoowo thanks for reading <3
> 
> P.S. nerd lingo glossary  
> natural ones/20s = the worst thing you can roll on a d20 (20 sided die) or the best. so basically rolling a nat one is awful and a 20 is the best thing to ever happen  
> medicine check = what it sounds like, you can heal someone. ish (also ofc depending on the outcome of the d20)  
> magfina = soonyoung's character and feng = wonwoo's  
> and those spells minghao were thinkin g about relate to fire/light bcause that's what he was feeling like then (my sweet nerd)  
> and also mingyu's character thielemans comes from the jazz musician if anyone caught that


End file.
